Prompt: So why is Kili so much prettier and more delicate-featured than the rest of the dwarves? Because he's half-elf, of course.
Thranduil and Thorin were (secret) lovers prior to the fall of Erebor, and Kili is their accidental secret lovechild (because male elves can get pregnant? IDK). Of course, Thranduil not helping during Smaug's invasion soured their relationship, and Thorin took Kili away, keeping his true parentage a secret...
Part 1
When Thorin first heard; it was not from Thranduil, but from a gossiping Legolas, eagerly detailing his excitement to another elf. Thorin, being the calm and rational being that he was known to be, stormed his lover's room in a flurry of rage.
"I hear your highness deserves congratulations for not only fathering a child but managing to do so in under two weeks that we've been apart."
Thranduil remained impassive, staring at his lover with blank, innocent eyes that swam with hidden wisdom.
"My apologies Thorin son of Thrain, I was not expecting you."
Thranduil gestured elegantly to a beige couch before crossing the room to pop open a secret compartment. He drew out a precious bottle of wine and a crystal goblet. Pouring a generous amount Thranduil replaced the bottle and shut the cabinet door. Returning to seat himself beside his lover, he tried to hand Thorin the drink.
Thorin did not take the offered cup, but glared at the elf with all the anger he could master. If one were to look closely enough, one would see a tinge of red on the white of the eye that betrayed his cover of anger for his true grief.
"Please meleth-nin have some wine."
Thorin grudgingly accepted and drank deeply before setting the empty goblet aside. Frowning at the passive elf whose serene blue eyes gazed at him with nothing but kindness.
"Why are you not drinking with me tonight. Is it your hope that enough wine will mellow me for the bitter revelation?"
Thranduil flashed a gentle smile that barely touched the corners of his mouth but non-the-less as Thorin would later swear; brightened the entire chamber like a dozen candled chandelier. Grasping his lover's hand Thranduil slowly pulled it towards him and pressed it against his naval.
"I am with child melamin," whispered Thranduil
Thorin frowned but not a moment later his mouth slackened in wonderment. He threaded his fingers beneath the fluid fabric to reach the soft skin beneath. Swelled, but only lightly, with new life.
"Our child," said the elf. Leaning in he pressed a kiss against the gapping mouth of the dwarf.
The treasure room was scalding, the gold absorbing the greedy licks of fire like coveted affection. In this room Thror huddled, holding his crown jewel against his chest with all the vehemence of a spooked child. Beside him, completely ignored, sat two little boys. Fili who was five years older than his cousin was holding the shaking Lamruil who was only three. Suddenly the jingle of gold broke the monotonous noise of battle and Dis appeared. Holding her dress above her ankles she ran and stumbled over piles of gold and precious stones.
"Fili, Lam? Get up we must leave!"
Fili helped his cousin up and then turned around to call his grandfather; but he didn't so much as make a sign that he heard or saw them.
"What about grandfather, mother?"
Dis finally reached the two children and picked up Lamruil to put against her hip, his chubby legs still not adequate for more than toddling. She grabbed Fili's hand with her free one and spared one pitiful look at her grandfather before starting to run for the entrance to the emergency tunnel.
"Leave him, your uncle Thorin will come for him later," she spoke tersely, leaving no room for argument. Fili let himself be pulled away
Erebor was lost. The dwarfs had crossed what remained of Dale, and all but made it through the impenetrable flora of Mirkwood, when they were interceded by a convey of Elves. Thorin came to the front to address the party, since both his father and grandfather, having succumbed to the exhaustion of battle, now lay sleeping in one of the supply wagons.
"Yes?" Thorin growled, not even trying to reign in his disdain.
"Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror, we have been instructed by our king Thranduil to collect his son Lamruil of Mirkwood from your care."
"His son hah? I did not see him in Erebor, defending his son against the wrath of the dragon," Thorin barked and a few dwarfs subconsciously reached for their weapons at the sudden rise in hostility. Struggling to take in a deep breath, Thorin raised his hand to placate his men. He glared with all the hatred in the world at the three fair riders, mocking him and his people in their perfection.
"You can tell your king, that the child was lost to the dragon," he growled. A note of sadness entered his voice when the dwarven prince thought back on the many children he was unable to save that day. The elves, being as they were aware of Thorin's paternity, attributed the dwarf's break in character to grief. Nodding in silent condolence they turned their horses north and rode away, giving the dwarfs free passage.
Some hours later and a fair way off from the fringe of Mirkwood the dwarves took to setting up camp in a small clearing surrounded by a semicircle of tall, dark oaks. Thorin having set up more than a dozen tents and started ten fires, now sat placidly by an open flame and gazed tenderly at his small son, playing an old dwarfish clapping game with his cousin Fili. The little boy was covering his mouth in between yawns, breaking the rhythm of the game, but Fili didn't care and kept going as if uninterrupted. Thorin smiled in amusement at the growing frown of concentration on Lamruil's face. The little one was trying so hard to keep up with the increasingly complicated patterns in the game.
"Dis!" Thorin called for his sister. She walked over to him from where she was assisting other women to tend to the wounded.
"Yes Thorin."
"I have told the elves that my son perished in the attack. If Thranduil hears of my deception it can bring a rain of trouble upon us. Hence from this day forth you must take Lamruil as your own; and he shall be known as Kili." Thorin almost smiled remembering how he had wanted to name the child Kili all along but a pregnant Thranduil was a force to be reckoned with and he lost that battle rather quickly; not that he fought very hard. Back then he would have felled armies to give his fair one anything he desired.
"You must raise the boys as brothers, so that Kili never knows of his true heritage, understood?"
"Yes Thorin" Dis nodded and sat beside him so she too could watch over her boys. She lost her husband that day but in turn gained another son. 'Perhaps' she thinks, 'this is my silver lining.'
Somewhere not all too far away but far enough, a cry of anguish disturbed the silent foliage of Mirkwood; the distant crying of a broken heart. Thranduil fell to grief that day and did not stir again for three long years.
The orcs were catching up and the howling of wargs grew closer by the minute. Thorin made his party run into the forest. By the mother of all luck the dwarves scent was broken by powerful northern wind, sending the beasts and their foul riders in the opposite direction. Or perhaps, Thorin think when he hears the distant roar of a bear, Beorn was responsible. He allowed himself to catch his breath, quickly counting the present party in sight to reassure himself that all were present. He gingerly pointed to the shrubbery to the left of them and led the way, the rest following close behind. The thick foliage revealed a large boulder that dropped off to reveal a small clearing where a crudely made wooden cage was holding what looked to have once been a pile of white drapes. Curious, Thorin slid of the small hill and under the boulder, the rest of the party following one by one. Just when he made a cautious step towards the cage, a snarl broke through the quite forest, and all the birds ceased to sing.
Quickly he gestured for the rest of his party to press against the underside of the boulder. The pile of rags stirred and sat up; turning around to face the newcomers. Thorin's gaze widened at the sight of the once proud eleven king. He might have lost it in that moment if the prisoner didn't cast his stare above them at something that seemed to terrify him far more than the dwarven party. Thorin assumed from the noises and scuffling coming from atop the boulder, it was an orc straddling a warg. Turning he gestured to Kili, who then reached back and grabbed his brother's hand giving it two quick squeezes. Fili reached into his brother's arrow satchel and withdrew two arrows handing one to Kili and holding the other at the ready. Quick as lightning the youngest Durin stepped away from the side far enough to shoot the warg through the head, immediately followed by a second arrow through the orc's heart. Both tumbled from the edge of the rock to the ground where Thorin cut the still struggling orc's head clean of its shoulders, with one mighty swing of his sword.
Finally free to face the prisoner again, Thorin was surprised to see a mix of anger along side the surprise in Thranduil's eyes. He approached the cell with trepidation, telling Dwalin and Bifur to stay on-guard for any other orcs. Bilbo stayed close to Thorin, but the dwarf ignored him.
"If it isn't the great Elven King Thranduil? I'm surprised beyond measure at finding you so far from your home. An orc's playing thing and by the looks of it", he jeered, "nothing more for sometime now." His voice was mocking, but Thranduil detected a note of sorrow and rage in the dwarf.
"If you don't see it fit to assist me Thorin son of Thrain" he spat, "then at least allow me some dignity by being on your way." The elf glared angrily at the dwarf.
Thorin smirked, and chopped through the wooden door with a single swing of his sword.
"You must be weak indeed if you cannot break through such poor craftsmanship."
Thranduil said nothing, and remained still.
"Well aren't you going to traipse out of here and be on your merry way," jested the dwarf.
"I can't walk."
Thorin sneered but Thranduil remained passive, lifting his gaze to stare blankly at the prince like they were having a discussion about something mundane, like the weather, as opposed to his diminished capacity. Stepping inside Thorin loomed over the decrepit elf, who was now forced to tilt his head back to retain eye contact. Without warning Thorin spat into the elf's face. Bilbo gasped and his fellow dwarfs shuffled uncomfortably at such a crude gesture of disrespect.
"I will return you to your people Elven King, but only to prove to them, that unlike their cowardly king I am an honorable leader. Yet may you never forget elf, that I value you less then a warg carcass," he scathed. Picking the elf roughly of the ground, Thorin turned from the cell and carried him out bridal style. The dwarf allowed himself some pleasure in the knowledge that due to their hight difference, Thranduil's delicate feet were scrapping hard against the rocky ground. Thorin ordered Bifur and Bofur to find one of the run away ponies. The brothers were fantastic hunters and not long after, they placed Thranduil atop a stocky roan mare and were once more on their way.
When the sun set the fellowship decided to settle down for the night in a soft mothy field that hid itself well a midst a semi-cirlce of thick shrubbery. Thorin knowing he would be unable to sleep just yet, took upon himself the first watch. Long before the fire turned into glowing ambers every one was already fast sleep. The dwarf king sat and observed his company with an air of an alpha guarding his pack. He couldn't help but smile when he saw Billbo and Bofur sleeping much closer to each other than before, the dwarf almost spooning the smaller Halfling. If their was something there, he was happy for them. Subconsciously his eyes drifted to the Elven King, but he was no longer where he was laid to rest. Panicking the dwarf was ready to rise and start a search when the press of one delicate hand against his shoulder, halted him mid rise.
"I am here meleth-nin."
Thorin shrugged off the hand like it was a branding iron.
"Do not call me that," he growled when the elf moved to sit beside him, "you have long since lost the right." His eyes felt suddenly dry, then rapidly moist. Terrified at being discovered struck so weak by his own emotions, Thorin turned away. Thranduil stared sadly at Thorin and nodded once in acceptance when he saw no break in anger on the dwarf's face.
"I understand that I no longer have claim to your affections son of Thrain; but at least have the decency to admit to me that all those years ago you have robbed me of affection that was not yours to take." Thranduil said, his voice sounding hollow and yet still heavy with desperation and hope. Thorin froze, the words leaving a cold feeling in his belly. No, he couldn't know!
"Tell me dwarf king, is the one you call Kili actually Lamruil, our son?"
"No."
"You lie!" hissed the elf, breaking his characteristic vagueness in favor of rage.
"You have no rule here king. My word should be good enough for you as it is more than you are entitled to in my company," growled Thorin.
"I have never seen a dwarf with a bow before, in fact save for your marksmen in battle it is almost unheard of, especially skill as magnificent as displayed by the one you call Kili." Thranduil spat the name like it was a curse.
"Kili is less stout than an average dwarf because he was born premature. If you must know his skill in archery comes from his agility due to lack of solid muscle. He took to the only weapon that he could ever hope to master to a level of adequate defense."
"So he is unable to use a sword."
"Of course he is able," growled the dwarf now enraged as well as equally offended. "I have taught him myself how to sword fight and battle with an axe."
"But he prefers the bow?"
"Yes."
"The weapon customary to the elven race?"
"You do not hold the rights to archery your highness, nor the right to question me like a common thief. I order you to bed! We will not have any further discussion tonight."
Thranduil glared, his azure eyes narrowing in contempt, but begrudgingly did as bided, and rose to move back across the camp. Thorin watched him go with grave suspicion. Thranduil paused, long enough to say, "just remember dwarf king, my memory does not fade. I recall hearing the name Kili once before, what seems like centuries ago now. It was whispered gently to me in a moonlit chamber while I was held in the arms of a dwarf who treasured my happiness above all other riches.
Thorin rose from his seat and stalked angrily into the woods. Thranduil sighed and settled back into his cocoon of blankets. Neither was aware of another being awake that night. A young dwarf with a head of blonde tresses, lay sleepless till the early morning glow.
Thorin hated himself for not predicting this from the start. How often must the Elven King display his lack of honour before he accepted him at face value? Not a moment after entering the Mirkwood palace, that the King ordered Thorin to tell him the purpose of their quest and if Lamruil was travelling with them. Fili looked worriedly at his cousin at the second remark, but Kili appeared completely oblivious, though very confused. Angered at the accusations against his uncle, the youngest dwarf prince bravely stepped forward and accused the King of dishonor and stupidity. Clearly no Lamruil, an elf as he deduced from the name, was in their company.
Thranduil angered at being so severely insulted by what in all likelihood was his own kin, ordered his guards to drag Kili to the dungeons before the others. Thorin of course refused to answer either question and promptly got his entire party thrown into the dungeons as well. It was the start of their fourth day there and Thorin managed to gather through the grapevine that Kili and Fili where placed in separate cells, but after two days of Kili refusing food and sleeplessly muttering to himself day-in and day-out the king finally made a concession and had them placed in the same cell. Thranduil had apparently attempted to question Fili, who not only swore unwavering allegiance to Thorin, also accused Thranduil of being completely barmy for accusing them of keeping Lamruil from him. Kili relayed his own hardships. Waking up at all hours of the night to find the elven king sitting at his bedside, watching him with tender, loving eyes; that were once, he swore to Fili while crossing his heart for emphasis, running in clear rivers of tears. Kili boasted of fooling the elf by never showing signs of being awake and Fili praised him for that most avidly. On day five Bilbo freed them and flushed them down in barrels.
R&R